


This Is How the Fairytale Ends

by sabriel75



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Future Fic, Happy Ending, M/M, Reveal, Romance, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-13
Updated: 2011-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabriel75/pseuds/sabriel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Merlin travels through time to avoid his destiny, but finds out that maybe he was on the right path afterall.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is How the Fairytale Ends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valderys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valderys/gifts).



> **Title: _This is How the Fairytale Ends_**  
>  **Recipient:** valderys  
>  **Word Count:** 2,200 words  
>  **Warnings:** No spoilers, but I created original characters for the scene set in the future.  
>  **Summary:** _Merlin travels through time to avoid his destiny, but finds out that maybe he was on the right path afterall._  
>  **Notes:** [Here](http://community.livejournal.com/camelotsolstice/41226.html#cutid1) for valderys, who has awed me with some of her own stories in this fandom and the thought of disappointing her so thoroughly, well, killed my muse in three hundred tiny different ways every time I sat down to write. I hope the struggle was worth it and that she enjoys it. Thanks zafra for once again, holding my hand through the process.

Time swirls and twists about Merlin and he shakes off the foreign debris from roaming about planes of reality not meant for his touch but unable to keep him from breaching them. He steps into the future as if he owns it. As if he’s been here before.

_And he has._

He visits this time, this memory he has not even made yet more often than he should. Hiding under a cloak of invisibility and avoiding his past like the plague, he watches – amused and thankful for the distraction from Albion’s future king.

Elaine always wants to sit on Arthur’s lap but she lets Merlin curl at his side. The three of them, cozy and content, wait out Gabriel’s 5-year-old arrogance and his avoidance of having to sit on the couch with his family and behave in a not-so-manly way.

Gabriel is so like Arthur; it hurts to watch.

The first time Merlin had stumbled upon this future, he had stood transfixed by such a need, enlivened with each time he comes back to this scene.

His fingers itch to ruffle Gabriel’s mop of golden curls when he dashes past to duck behind a chair, unable to stay away from his family, but trying to maintain a respectable distance. From Gabriel’s position and repeated peeking from behind the chair, a girly display of touchy-feely is going on and it is so not right for his dads to be kissing in front of he and Elaine like that.

It is Arthur’s voice, filled with obvious love and fondness that coaxes another peek out of the stubborn boy. It rises above Elaine’s giggles and Merlin’s soft invitations, “C’mon Gabriel, don’t make me beg.”

Even though it’s at least his sixth visit to this specific time and place, Merlin flushes and lets out a very non-masculine sigh where he stands behind Gabriel, knowing what comes next already.

His sigh sets Gabriel off. He runs over to Arthur, jumping onto the couch, yelling, “I heard someone over there” and burying his head under a pillow.

Arthur hands Elaine over to Merlin, who scoots the two of them out of wrestling range. He gives each of them a peck on their noses before his grin grows wider and he clutches Gabriel close, tickling him and making him forget all about the noise behind the chair, his hiding place and the Merlin who doesn’t belong to this reality.

This familial interaction warms Merlin enough that he steps back into the coldness of his present destiny, not willingly but with purpose.

A destiny that once felt majestic and heroic, forged by loyalty, friendship and love; a proper righting of wrongs, a noble task of balancing out the sins of their fathers and making reparation to unite all of Albion now feels tarnished, a fate they cannot escape.

_And they cannot._

Never since being thrust into this role has Merlin questioned Albion – the choices and sacrifices she has made or the tests she has made them endure, because he willingly chose. Once he saw the man, actually had a chance to see into the heart of the Once and Future king, he knew he had been put upon the right path.

_Arthur always has been, always will be, even now, is his reason for being._

And for this reason, Albion should know she demands too much of him in _this_ lifetime.

She forgets Emrys, a child of the Old Religion, unfettered by time and space or reality is _only human_.

Merlin is as much man as he is warlock.

He is Arthur’s loyal man.

She cannot expect Merlin to idly stand aside and watch Arthur be damaged even if magic cannot be wielded against this danger. Her promises of immortality, of other lives that play out differently do nothing to stifle Merlin’s need to defend and protect his liege at all costs.

***~***

Breathe in and breathe out.

Slow and calm.

Merlin inserts himself back into his present timeline.

He thinks a purifying spell to burn away any residue of his future hopping and heads for his rooms, knowing the coming storm isn’t a natural occurrence. He can feel its mercurial intentions and wonders if it is his, Arthur’s or Albion’s mood that feeds its fury.

They are a violable trinity, connected by magic, imprisoned by generations of hurt and conflicted but not beyond repair. Or so Merlin hopes, given he’s about to gamble away the entire universe’s existence on this belief and possibly strip himself of all lifetimes save this one.

***~***

“Gwen told me, you ass!”

Merlin does not turn to face his accuser. He already knows what Arthur looks like in this moment. Chainmail, muddy and dripping; one hand clenched around his sword; face flushed irate even though he’s pelted the knights into sullen gloom and exerted most of his energies on them.

“You coward!”

Merlin thinks that’s rich coming from the King who has let the affair bloom under his nose.

“Look at me. Merlin!” As if Arthur has given him a choice, because he hasn’t. In four quick strides, he crosses to Merlin, yanking him away from the window; the storm they’re creating with a clash of wills and tips his chin up or tries to.

Merlin raises his chin defiantly at Arthur’s brute force, his eyes flashing gold and allowing him to step out of Arthur’s grasp easily. He flinches instinctually as he glides past Arthur’s clenching and unclenching fists in his haste to put space between them and he sees Arthur stiffen in surprise.

“Merlin?” Now he decides to show some restraint and Merlin hates it. His guilt needs Arthur to rant and rave and shift some of the blame off of himself, but he treasures it too. This Arthur, this desperate, hesitant man who faces him now with pained openness will be King of all Albion and yet all Merlin ever sees, can see is the man of his dreams.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh no? That’s so? You arrogant… **.** ”

They both have reached a breaking point if Arthur’s voicing actual anger over Gwen and Lance, and Merlin is taking it even though it’s not his fault. It really isn’t his fault for them leaving. Arthur should have known they would never have been able to stay, even with Arthur’s blessing. He should know this.

Or hasn’t he been suffering as Merlin has for the past year and a half, watching Gwen fall madly, deeply in love with Lance because Arthur’s never fully given himself over to wooing her?

Arthur sends his sword skidding across the room before advancing on Merlin, his fists, rigidly balled, his face set and firm and no longer readable.

Merlin braces for the inevitable or thinks he does until he realizes he’s scrabbled backwards into the wall. _Arthur_ he pleads mentally but he cannot interfere, he’s invested in this scene. He shuts his eyes and sees without looking, Arthur’s fist coming up and aiming for his face. Arthur’s fist, clenched but held back, tempered for the weak and he deserves this and wants Arthur to get on with it.

The wait has been agony.

He has done his penance, and would like the punishment to be over with so that they can talk. Actually talk this through like king and advisor should.

“What gave you the right to tell them it was best if they leave?” The question flutters warm across his face.

Merlin cracks an eye open, barely a slit and golds, reds and silvers blur his sight and he nearly sinks to his knees. _This isn’t how it’s supposed to go._ And he must’ve said that aloud, because Arthur’s snorting and hauling him upright, dragging him to the table where he forces Merlin to sit.

“Drink.” The wine Arthur gives him helps, but doesn’t stop the shaking. He’s relieved, and confused and if Arthur’s quizzical look is anything to go by, amusing the hell out of his liege who has no right to be in such a mood.

“S’not funny!”

“So then _Mer_ lin, how was it suppose to go? What? Was I suppose to come here and knock some sense into you?”

Merlin has only been good at lying about magic, so he tops off his wine goblet and magicks another one for Arthur to fill.

Across from him, Arthur frowns, grabbing the wine as he falls heavily into a chair. “When did you start thinking so little of me?”

“When you started thinking so little of yourself,” Merlin mutters, drinking down his wine in one go.

“She could’ve been yours. What happened? You defied your father for her loads.”

“She wasn’t the only one.”

“Wasn’t the only one what?” Merlin pours himself another full goblet of wine before leaving the rest for Arthur. “You’re being cryptic.”

“Then let me spell it out for you _Mer_ lin.” Only when Arthur wants to wind Merlin up does he emphasize the first syllable of his name and Merlin’s not in the mood.

“Yeah, spell – ” Here Merlin wriggles his fingers in a _I’m casting a spell_ sort of way and catches a grin forming on Arthur’s face when he continues, “Spell it out for me, because I am an idiot. Forget how to speak sometimes.”

Arthur’s head tilts lazily at that comment and he nudges his goblet forward for Merlin to fill again. “Do you now? Any chance of that happening sometime soon?”

“Is that a request?”

“If you want me to answer your question, it is. If not, you can take it as an insult as I haven’t had the good fortune of ever being around you when that’s happened.”

“Yeah, of course. I want you to talk to me.” Merlin tries for a lightness of tone; instead he sounds defeated and maybe even disappointed. There is hurt in it too, but he refuses to think about that.

Arthur has shuffled over to him as he speaks, and he slides to his knees in front of Merlin, who quickly flails about trying to stand. “What are you doing Arthur?” he hisses in desperation, pinned to the chair by Arthur’s entire upper torso.

“You. It was always you. You were the only other person who could convince me going against my father was worth it.” Arthur crosses his arms and props his chin on the top of his hands, leaning heavily still on Merlin’s legs. “Didn’t you ever notice, even once, Merlin?”

Merlin counts his heartbeats. He steadies his exhale and inhale and relies on meditation techniques until he can easily draw breath again.

He still cannot find words and stares at Arthur in disbelief.

They never speak about these things.

Never have.

If Merlin’s gaze had gone a bit hazy back in the day, and if his fingers lingered too long while tying Arthur’s laces at his neck, at his waist or ghosted over inappropriate places while twisting and turning Arthur about for dressing, Arthur never complained. He never rebuked.

His breath did hitch and hiss and occasionally muted moans escaped.

Arthur knows Merlin has heard these sounds come from him in the past.

But Merlin has heard so much more from Arthur in their future.

_He craves all of it now._

***~***

Hand-in-hand, they arrive back at the castle, choosing to travel during the night. It is not safe for Camelot to be without their King during the day. To be fair, though, it probably isn’t any safer with him gone, sifting through the sands of time, at all.

They have visited Merlin’s favorite hiding place. They have forced themselves to relive much of the purge. Their memories of Uther, of Gaius even, tainted by having to sideline themselves and just watch in horror.

But this trip is to be their last. The appeal of leaving, wandering about their past or exploring their future isn’t there anymore. Not now.

Ygraine had looked beautiful though, swelled belly and flushed with excitement. Her apparent adoration for her yet-to-be-born child evident in every inflection of the lullaby she sang.

Arthur had crumpled in Merlin’s arms, and they had known it was enough. They had had enough. It was time to stick to one time, one place and let destiny lead them where it will.

They choose to live in the here and now… _together_.

Two choices… two hearts… two meant to become one, knowing they remain _for always_ two sides of the same coin.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I created a playlist for this story.
> 
> Track One: _**Fake Empire**_ **~ The National  
> ** Track Two: _**Your Hand in Mine**_ **~ Explosions in the Sky  
> ** Track Three: **_Addicted_ ~ Kelly Clarkson   
> **Track Four: **_Who Knows Who Cares_ ~ Local Natives  
> ** Track Five **: _The Last Song Ever Written_ ~ Stars  
> ** Track Six: **_Shadowman_ ~ K's Choice  
> ** Track Seven: **_Where We Gonna Go From Here_ ~ Mat Kearney  
> ** Track Eight: **_A Fairytale Ending_ ~ The Boy Least Likely**


End file.
